Stacy asks Morgan another question about her latest magazine shoot and I lose her to her animated answer.
This girl . . . she has such big dreams. Watching them come true has been a privilege I don’t take lightly. I know how hard we’ve both worked to get to this elite level in our careers. Could I really ask her to give all that up?
That’s what cutting back our travel would mean.
The timing isn’t ideal. Practically every influential designer in the world is begging for Morgan to strut her stuff down their runway, and she loves every second of it.
I already know the answer to my unspoken question.
I could never take that away from her.
She’s my muse, and I won’t be the one to smother her flame.
Morgan May
Every few seconds, I have to wipe a rebellious tear of joy from my eyes before anyone else sees it.
My beautiful best friend is going to be a mom—a mom!
I can hardly believe it. I'm so thrilled for Stacy that if I wasn’t certain Jake would hate the attention such action would bring, I would’ve screamed at the top of my lungs and thrown my arms around her.
Sweet Stacy may make the most horrible coffee I’ve ever had the displeasure of tasting, but damn will she be a wonderful mother. Not to mention that her kids will be blessed with her amazing home-cooked meals.
She already does such a great job with Ryan. It’s clear as day that the little boy adores her. Stacy has a maternal warmth that I'm not so sure I’ve cultivated yet. I thank my lucky stars that I ended up with her as a roommate when I first moved to the city.
Without Stacy mothering us, I don’t think Chloe and I would have survived. We’re not the domestically blessed type.
But . . . who knows? Maybe once Stacy has the first baby of the group, a few more might follow.
I hold my breath for a moment, waiting to see how my body reacts to such a concept.
It’s a new idea to me. I’ve never really sat still long enough to consider motherhood. And until Eric, I’ve never had a guy I could imagine a future with. But I can now. I don’t even have to close my eyes to picture it—me and Eric, his hand in mine—forever.
I guess I’ve never really thought beyond the happiness we have now. We don’t have a whole lot of time to talk about what comes next when we’re always on the go, jumping from one plane to the next. I change countries like underwear. That’s no life for a baby. But I won’t do this forever.
I glance at Eric and he gives me a wink that makes my heart flutter in my chest. Life is good. I’ve never been this happy, so why fight it? Planning isn’t really our style anyway. As long as I’m with Eric, I’m okay with whatever comes our way.
A flash of our future hits me when Eric gives me a secret smile. To my surprise, no fits of anxiety ripple through me at the thought of a little ankle-biter wedged between us.
Could I really be a mother someday?
It’s easy to see Stacy in that role. Heck, she’s had lots of practice with Ryan. But me? A mom?
I’ve always been more comfortable on the road. I love being able to take off on a whim or surprise Eric by joining him on tour. I wonder what it would feel like to live a more domestic life.
Sometimes, I dream that my life is simple like that. I know Stacy and Jake, and Donovan and Chloe have their own daily agendas to juggle, but at least they can deal with their troubles from the comfort of their own home.
It’s not that I'm ungrateful. I know how lucky Eric and I both are—and how hard we’ve worked to get here. We’ve sacrificed a lot.
Most people, including perhaps even our friends, just see the glamorous side of being famous. They don’t have to deal with the endless travel or the constant spotlight or being far away from the people they care about most.
That old life with Chloe and Stacy in our dingy little apartment where we grew our dreams feels like an entirely different lifetime ago.
My girls and I have come so far.
I cherish our time together—then and now. But still . . . something feels off.
Here we are, days before Christmas, still getting trashed in Club Thorn like we’re freshly minted twenty-one-year-olds.
With gaudy strings of colorful lights and mistletoe hanging everywhere, Club Thorn might be trying to sell the Christmas vibe, but it feels superficial instead of warm and inviting. And believe me when I say that no one asked for a remix of Joy to the World.
If we’ve grown up and accomplished so much, what the heck are we doing back in this place?
“This is depressing,” I mutter under my breath, though a well-timed pause in the booming music meant that all my friends witnessed the stray thought.
“What’s depressing?” Eric asks.
He frowns at me before gently brushing a long lock of blonde hair off my shoulder. As usual, he’s ever affectionate, even when he’s totally wiped from traveling.
I know he’s putting on a brave face right now, but every time he blinks, his whole body slumps slightly to the side like he’s about to pass out in his seat. And he’s not fooling anyone by trying to hide those yawns when he thinks we’re not watching.
“Well . . . this,” I explain, gesturing around us. I'm met with a sea of my friends’ blank faces. I heave a sigh and roll my eyes. “We’re not twenty anymore, guys. Shouldn’t we have matured past all-hours partying a little?”
“Hmm . . .” Chloe says, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe you’re right, Morgan.”
I respond with a cool wink. “Of course I am.”
Across the VIP booth, Donovan scoffs. His disagreement seems to startle Chloe, who frowns tersely at her fiancé. There’s some sort of tension between the lovebirds at the moment, but I don’t know what it is.
“This is tradition!” Donovan protests. “Why do you think everyone in their forties looks back and calls these the ‘good old days’? We’ve got to enjoy every second we have while we can. I'm not trading in these fun times until I have to.”
“I expected Eric to say that, not you, Donovan!” Stacy laughs. “I would’ve thought Easy E would be the one with the Peter Pan complex.”
“I take great offense to that,” Eric states with feigned indignance.
In one fluid motion, I toss my blonde hair over my shoulder and look at Donovan with my flawless smize, the one gracing dozens of different magazines this month alone. “Who said I'm trading anything in?” I purr. “I'm keeping these good looks as long as I can.”
The table bursts into laughter again, though Donovan doesn’t join in and Chloe’s smile remains tight.
“Cheers to that!” Jake says through his chuckling.
Most of us clink our glasses together, but Donovan is still looking pretty jaded over the prospect of anything changing.
I lean over to him, tapping my glass against his since he wouldn’t acknowledge my cheer a moment ago. “All I'm saying is that we’ve made it. We shouldn’t be doing the same sad Christmas celebrations we did when we were struggling. Don’t you think?”
“Who said I ever struggled?” Donovan shoots back, haughtily.
I laugh. “You know I’m marrying your best friend, right?”
“So?” he challenges.
“So, Eric and I don’t have any secrets.” I wink. “Including all the dorky childhood ones he knows about you.”
Donovan rolls his eyes, but even under the glaring Christmas lights, I can see his cheeks heat. “Touché,” he says, finally raising his glass to his lips.
I grin and sink back against Eric’s side, feeling satisfied—not that I’d ever use any of Eric’s pillow talk against Donovan. Besides, the billionaire’s humble past is nothing to be ashamed of.
I love listening to Eric talk about his and Donovan’s modest beginnings in the suburbs. It sure makes Donovan easier to love. I’m convinced the grouchy billionaire has a soft gooey heart somewhere under his prickly exterior, but boy does he make you dig for it.
From what I know, Donovan is the one among us who had a g
reat childhood and made it big early on in his career. Of the six of us, he’d struggled the least.
It makes me wonder why he’s clinging so hard to these sad traditions.
I lift my drink to my lips and take a swig before giving the group a shrug. “I just think we can do better than continuing to chase the ghosts of sad Christmases past.”
Chloe Martin
Morgan’s words make perfect sense to me, but Donovan is still sitting so stiffly at my side that he might’ve been carved from stone. It’s pretty apparent we’re on opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to our lives changing.
That only makes my heart ache more.
“Excuse you!” Stacy snipes at Morgan.
Stacy’s mock-wounded glare collides with Morgan’s beautiful smolder and the two friends have a brief stare-down. I half expect to hear an old-fashioned western whistle while a tumbleweed rolls through the bustling club.
Stacy huffs when she realizes she’ll never beat the smize queen in a stare-off. “I have fond memories of our lame holidays with wine and cold pizza at our crappy little Brooklyn apartment, thank you very much!”
“Damn straight!” I chime in again, suddenly realizing that my words have begun to slur together.
I need to slow down on these cosmos, they’re definitely going to my head a bit. I guess Stacy’s pregnancy has shaken me more than I thought. I get why it’s unearthed some insecurities about my relationship with Donovan but it’s not like he and I can have a real conversation about it right now. Hence my need to quell my worries with a drink . . . or three.
Everything Donovan’s said about not wanting his life to change makes me wonder even more if he’s not ready to settle down—or if it’s just that he doesn’t want to settle down with me?
Is he ready for us to even start thinking about the next step of our lives? Or does he want to avoid it because he can’t seem to imagine it at all?
Do I even want to know the answer?
Even now he’s still frowning, one long leg propped upon his knee.
“Ha! You just admitted we had lame holidays and a crappy apartment!” Morgan says with a victorious cry. She gazes happily between Stacy and me, folding her arms confidently against her chest.
“So what?” Stacy shoots back.
“So you should also admit that we need to step up our game a little now that we have the capability to do so.”
Stacy giggles and rolls her eyes. The two girls playfully continue their banter about what exactly constitutes a ‘lame’ holiday, but my mind is drifting in another direction.
I watch them enviously. They both look so content, like they couldn’t imagine their lives getting any better.
I used to look like that, too. So did Donovan.
Panic slithers into my gut, making me regret that last drink. I glance at Donovan, wondering when we lost that glow that the rest of our friends have.
Stacy and Jake have a baby on the way, and Morgan and Eric get to travel all over the world together dominating runways and stages. It all sounds so exciting, like their futures are all mapped out. And Donovan and I . . . we have our work, but is that all we’ll ever have?
Is it enough?
I hate that I’m the only one struggling with what the future might bring. I want to be happy along with my friends, not bring them down with my fears. Again, I reach for my drink, hoping it can quiet my gloomy thoughts.
Eric spoke up. “If my girl wants to try something different this Christmas, I think we should.” He offers the beautiful blonde beside him an affectionate wink. “What’s your heart set on, Morgan? Paris? Italy? The North Pole? I’ll make it happen.”
I fold my hands tight in my lap, fingers tapping an uncertain rhythm against my knuckles. Even though Eric is teasing Morgan, there’s a vein of sincerity in his offer. We all know how devoted he is to his fiancée.
I am so glad that Morgan found someone who worships the ground she walks on, but it highlights the sudden doubts I'm unexpectedly having in my own relationship. I don’t need Donovan to hand me the world on a string, I just want to know he and I are on the same page . . . but I don’t know how to ask him.
It seems the only time we’re in sync these days is when we’re talking about work.
My best friends have always called me Miss Independent, and now that I'm in a relationship with a man I work with, I'm not sure where the line between independence and communication is.
I love Donovan entirely, but I can’t let my fears go unspoken. I have every faith we can fix this. But with the holidays coming up so soon . . . this conversation will have to wait until afterward.
Morgan’s laughter pulls me from my thoughts. I watch her cup Eric’s tan cheek before patting it lightly. “Our holiday doesn’t have to be that extravagant! Don’t get me wrong, I love everything you suggested. I even love being back in New York City. It’s just sometimes, especially during the holidays, it makes me miss the simple country Christmases I used to have growing up in Kansas. Those memories with my mom . . .” Morgan trails off, quieting for a moment while she collects herself. “They mean everything to me.”
A distant look fills Morgan’s normally bright eyes, no doubt caught up in thoughts of her mother, who Morgan lost to cancer when she was just twelve.
I reach over to comfort her, but Eric moves faster than I do. He hugs his fiancée against him as though he wishes he could shield her from every pain in the world. My stomach coils a little tighter and I glance sideways at my own future husband. Donovan is looking even more pensive now.
He leans abruptly forward and sets down his empty glass. “Kansas? Seriously?”
He looks at me for support and I muster up an uncertain smile. I don’t like being put between my fiancé and my best friend. Plus, I don’t really trust my swirling emotions at the moment, so I keep my mouth shut.
Getting nothing from me, Donovan faces our friends again. “Why would anyone want to go somewhere like Kansas?”
“Okay, Mr. Moneybags,” Eric teases, though I can tell by the slight curtness in his voice that he’s warning Donovan to be careful with his tone toward Morgan. “Just because you bathe in your riches and diamonds at night doesn’t mean we can’t go somewhere laidback this Christmas. Little Donovan used to go crazy over building snow forts and having snowball fights in the ‘burbs? Remember?”
“Well . . . yes,” Donovan mutters, “But—”
“But?” Eric’s dark eyes glint.
Donovan just chuckles and shakes his head. He looks back at me, reaching out to brush my dark hair from my forehead. That little gesture makes my heart soar.
Here we are again, connecting like we always have, and I'm the center of his world. If every moment could be like this, everything would be perfect. He gazes into my eyes as though he can see my soul. He’s the only person I’ve ever met who’s able to do that.
Eric laughs. “You’re ignoring me because you know I'm right!”
Donovan doesn’t answer. Instead, he loops his arm around my shoulders and inches closer. He leans against me, his breath hot against my ear as he whispers, “Don’t worry, there’s no way I’d drag you out to the middle of nowhere for Christmas. It’s not like either of us wants to be that far from the office anyway.”
I bite my lip hard, resting my head on his shoulder so he can’t see the disappointment in my eyes. Donovan is trying to be sweet . . . but how can I tell the man I love more than anything that we might want different things?
Stacy Davis
Jake frowns. “Kansas might be a little far.”
I look up at him waiting for more, but he just sighs thoughtfully and rests the side of his head against mine. Jake’s rough fingers gently lace with my own as I gaze at him, content just to watch the way the club lights reflect in his deep brown eyes.
All this talk about doing something different for Christmas is partially exciting and partially terrifying. It’s already Christmas Eve-Eve. We don’t have a ton of time to plan anything. And honestly, I�
�m not sure the group truly understands the restrictions this new pregnancy will have on our usual type of trips. I certainly won’t be partying like we’ve done in the past.
Jake turns toward me, nuzzling the tip of his nose against mine. Joy wells up inside of me, warm and sweet, distracting me from my worries. I let myself fully soak up this blissful feeling.
I want to enjoy every moment that Jake and I have before the baby is born. We’ll always love one another, I'm positive about that, but I just want to make sure I appreciate these simple moments before such a big change occurs.
“Have I ever told you guys about what Jenny and I used to do around the holidays when we were kids?” he asks.
He looks around the group and everyone shakes their heads. Happy laughter rumbles through his broad chest as he fondly contemplates his memories with his dearly departed sister, trying to figure out which story to tell. He leans forward, enthused as always when referring to Jenny, though his hand stays protectively on mine as if just to remind me that he’s always by my side.
I stroke my thumb against the back of his hand, encouraging him to continue.
“Jenny and I used to drive all the way to the countryside upstate with our sleds in tow. We’d get as far from the city as possible so we could spend hours and hours lugging those sleds up the hills there. Man, it was like a twenty-minute trek uphill and a thirty-second slide down. But it was so worth it. I landed on my ass more than a few times. Jenny always thought that was hilarious.” Jake pauses, his voice turning bittersweet. “Those memories with her . . . I’ll have them forever, you know? Every Christmas, I think about those days with Jenny . . . I can still hear her laugh. I can still see her hair whipping in the wind. I want Ryan to have memories like that with us.”
“You’re going to make all of us cry, Jake!” Morgan sniffs, dabbing at her eyes. “My mom and I used to go sledding, too.”
Jake perked up. “Really?”
I smile as I watch him cock his head, probably trying to picture my supermodel bestie doing anything outdoorsy.
Christmas in Pine Island: A small town holiday romance Page 3
